


Life Beyond the Binary

by Araceil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sword Art Online (Anime & Manga)
Genre: ALFheim Magic System, Action, Adventure, Aftermath of SAO, Angst, Anxiety, Children are the Worst, Depression, Drama, Dumbledore makes a decision, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Gore, Humour, M/M, Orange Players, PAIRING FOR HARRY UNDECIDED, PTSD, Parental Agil, Parental Asuna, Parental Klein, Past Child Abuse, Past Child Neglect, Probably slash, Romance, SAO Survivors take care of their own, Unique Skills, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, Worldbuilding, but since its a stupid ass decision the Clearers have opted to ignore it, death game, except when they aren't, muscle atrophy, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araceil/pseuds/Araceil
Summary: Harry Potter survived Sword Art Online. He was ten when he went in. Twelve and a half when he came out. And stolen from his Hospital room barely a month after that.How will Hogwarts handle a child forged in the fires of Kayaba Akihiko's death game, a world ruled by swords, where monsters prowled around in the dark, and the most dangerous of all enemies werealwaysother players? How will Voldemort handle a Boy Who Lived who earned his title with clashing steel, potion lights, and orange markers?Regardless of what anyone else may think, Stormlight has only one thing in mind, getting strong enough to go back home to his little brother and the rest of his self-made family.
Relationships: Andrew Gilbert Miles | Agil & Harry Potter | Stormlight, Ayano Keiko | Silica & Harry Potter | Stormlight, Kirigaya Kazuto | Kirito/Yuuki Asuna | Asuna, Tsuboi Ryutarou | Klein & Harry Potter | Stormlight, Yuuki Asuna | Asuna & Harry Potter | Stormlight
Comments: 114
Kudos: 1325





	1. Chapter 1

_Lily's son was so small on the clean white and yellow bedding. Only eleven years old, he barely looked nine and was so very, very thin already. His pale face lax with what could almost be called sleep, if not for the blinking headpiece that encased his skull. He lay within a semi-private medical room, one other boy in there with him, the same age, wearing an identical black helmet._

_He looked at the nurse, “Explain his physical state in detail, use simple English,” he ordered, ignoring the minute flinches of the fools around him. Dumbledore's posse he had summoned to assist in the search for Harry Potter._

_The_ imperio' _d nurse collected the clipboard at the bottom of Potter's bed and began to read, “As of this moment in time, Harry Potter is physically within a coma and experiencing acute vivid lucid dreaming. He is experiencing severe muscle atrophy, mild case of adrenaline poisoning, severe stress, and likely a degree of considerable mental trauma. He is one of ten thousand individuals currently within this state due to the Sword Art Online incident. He is trapped, for lack of a better word, in a location filled with monsters and beasts that will try to kill him. Should he die within that dream-scape, he will die here.”_

“ _How do we get him out?!” Doge blustered in horror._

 _The nurse shook her head, even managing to look apologetic while under the_ imperio _, “I'm sorry sir, there is no external means of safely removing the child from the game. All prior attempts have resulted in the instant death of the individual. The only means known to us at present is the completion of a pre-set task that must be undertaken in the dream-scape.”_

“ _And that is?” he asked slowly with narrowed eyes, possibilities beginning to take root in his mind._

“ _The exploration of all one hundred floors and defeat of the end Boss, the most powerful enemy in the dream-scape. We have been informed that once this is completed, all individuals trapped will be released.”_

“ _How long has this been going on?” Kingsley Shacklebolt, a relatively new auror, asked the woman. “And how long do you think it will take them to escape?”_

_She hummed, “The SAO incident began one year ago. My younger brother was involved with the test versions, so if things progress along the predicted rate... I believe it will be another two years before the game is defeated. Three in total. Four if the architect of this tragedy does not have any hidden extras up his sleeves.”_

“ _And where is the architect of this?” Moody growled from the shadows in the corner, magical eye having finished whizzing nauseatingly around his socket – it was a wonder it hadn't spin its way out or drilled deeper into his skull with the speed it had been going earlier._

“ _Akihiko Kayaba is still at large.”_

* * *

Life at magic school was not as wonderful as Hermione Granger had thought it would be, it was no longer as terrible as it had been in her first year when she had to hide her bitter angry tears at the thought of going back after Christmas. She had no friends in Gryffindor, but a few in both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, children we re cruel but the Hufflepuffs saw her upset and lonely and admired her work ethic so invited her to join them, and the Ravenclaws loved a good debate and enjoyed research and finding things out and experiments. Truly, she should have accepted the hat's suggestion to go into Ravenclaw, it would have fitted her better she thought.

But none of that was either here, or there. Because there was a boy in her seat at breakfast.

Everyone knew this was her spot because it was the one with Su Li directly behind it on the Ravenclaw table and both Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot opposite on the Hufflepuff table. It was the exact location she'd sat in every morning since she first came back after that Christmas, one place left of the candle stick.

He was so _thin_.

Unhealthily so, as if he'd been starved his whole life, but the plate in front of him was only soup and six empty potion phials were sat in front of him as he very closely spooned the broth into his mouth with shaking hands. He'd rolled his sleeves back, and gosh they were so painfully thin, she could have wrapped her fingers around his forearm and touched forefinger to thumb! He wore the Gryffindor uniform, but she didn't think she knew anyone that looked like him, not that she could see much, he had very long thick black hair that was currently loose and curtaining his face from view. It looked very soft and lovely.

“Ah, Ms Granger, good timing,” Professor McGonagall declared, sweeping down the hall between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables towards her. She straightened up at the sight of her head of house, the woman that had saved her life in her first year when a troll got into the castle – after Ron Weasley had sent her off crying, her housemates realised she hadn't been at the feast and told on her. Percy Weasley sent the closest ghost to Professor McGonagall to tell her Hermione's location and like a _valkyrie_ her head of house descended on the poor dumb beast before it could paste the eleven year old and turned it into a snuff box. She had been in awe of the woman ever since and sincerely wanted to grow up to be just like her! “I see you've noticed our newest addition,” she continued with a glance at the skinny boy, her expression still stern as ever but something very sad about her eyes. “This is Harry Potter – ” it took everything she had not to gasp and stare at the boy, “ – he should have joined us last year but there were unfortunate circumstances that prevented that. He will be somewhat behind everyone in your age group, I'd like for you to help him get up to speed and introduce him to the magical world, much like yourself, he has been raised by muggles and ignorant of magic until we were able to deliver his Hogwarts letter.”

She caught sight of him moving in the corner of her eye and turned. Oh. Oh he was _horrible_ to look at. So gaunt and pale, his eyes were sunken in – he looked like a _skull_ with skin barely stretched over him, not a twelve year old boy!

She looked up at Professor McGonagall in abject horror, “Professor, should he even be here?!” she squeaked, “Surely he should be in the hospital!”

The woman's face went even stonier, and her lips vanished into a thin line of disapproval, Harry Potter however only snorted and turned away. “Headmaster Dumbledore concluded that Mister Potter would be safer here at Hogwarts than unattended in a muggle hospital on the otherside of the planet. As his legal guardian – ”

“Magical guardian,” Harry Potter interrupted hoarsely. Gosh, he even _sounded_ awful. “He's not my _legal_ guardian. He took me away from them.”

Professor McGonagall's face flickered with pain for a moment, “You need to learn how to control your magic Mister Potter, and both your tuition and registration here were handled by your parents before their death.”

Harry Potter didn't have anything to say to that, but the scepticism on his face said more than enough.

* * *

_Anger was not an emotion Albus felt often these days. He had lived a long life and seen the worst that humanity and magic-kind had to offer in three major wars, his anger and disgust were hard to fan after the crimes of Gellert, Voldemort, and even the horrors he witnessed in the First World War, his sister's assault, and all of it inbetween._

_Petunia and Vernon Dursley were some particular level of vile to have roused him to such a point._

“ _And you just_ left _him?” he demanded coldly, hands hidden in his sleeves to prevent anyone from seeing just how tightly they had been fisted, bleached white and trembling with anger._

 _Petunia fluttered in her anger, terrified and furious at him and furious over being terrified in equal measure. “You don't get to throw stones about_ leaving _the boy anywhere!_ You _dropped him on my damn doorstep like a bottle of milk in the middle of the night in_ November!!” _she snapped back, “There was no means of safely getting him out of the country, we left him in a_ hospital _with specialists and caretakers and a family that actually_ wanted _the whelp!”_

“ _The risk of your sister's murderer getting – ”_

 _She slammed her hands down, “_ DO. NOT! _Bring her into this,” she yelled, her voice breaking and crumbling into a hiss. “If you gave a single damn about my sister's child you would have never left him with me. The boy is safer on the otherside of the planet than he is under my roof,” she whispered furiously, miserably,_ guiltily _. She glared at him with sharp blue-grey eyes so unlike her sister's warm emerald, but holding that same fire she used to, “He's with a good family. Well off. And they aren't_ freaks _. They'll take care of the boy, they're already paying for his medical fees and everything needed for his legal adoption. There's nothing you can do, old man, it's all legal. We've signed the paperwork, paid the administration fees, the boy is someone else's problem now, and I'm forbidden from disclosing whom.”_

 _He didn't jerk backwards, he could read in her eyes easily enough, memories of signing a... 'Non-Disclosure Agreement', papers giving up her guardianship, receiving_ money _for her actions, a generous lump sump. Forty thousand pounds to give the child up and not breathe a word of whom or where. She was forbidden from discussing it beyond saying he was adopted away and his new family didn't want contact – it would be a secret that his new family learned they had been mistreating the boy and took him with the threat of_ burying _them in legal troubles and debt, that they would destroy Grunnings completely if they didn't cooperate and keep their mouths shut._

_The Fujiwara Conglomerate had more than enough money to do so. And the Chairman had been utterly charmed by her polite, softspoken, freak of a nephew who played so nicely with his grandson, while Dudley embarrassed his father by hurting the youngest of the Fujiwara children by playing a little too boisterously._

_Albus turned on heel and stormed out of the house._

_Japan. Harry Potter was in Japan._

* * *

Going up the stairs was... difficult.

Harry couldn't move very quickly, and he couldn't carry his own bookbag, he wasn't _physically strong enough_ for it.

They were late for Charms, and it set Hermione to hand wringing and anxiety, and it made Harry tight faced and stubbornly silent as she tried not to fret or even look accusatory. She knew it wasn't his fault that he couldn't get around very quickly, that they were late, he really _should_ have been in a hospital, had they even given him a chance to properly recover from whatever it was that had laid him up?

“I'll talk to Professor Flitwick,” she promised as they finally got to the right floor and began to shuffle towards the appropriate classroom, “See if we can't... get a charmed seat that can get you up and down the stairs, like a chair-lift!” she exclaimed excitedly, inspiration striking her like a bolt out of the blue.

“That – would be – appreciated,” Harry Potter wheezed, continuing his stubborn swinging shuffle forward. He still looked terrible and unhealthy, but there was something very hard about his eyes, the lines of his mouth, more like a soldier going to war than a preteen with mobility difficulties. “I foresee – many stairs – in my future here.”

She nodded unhappily in agreement, “Unfortunately yes. I suppose it's one way to make sure there isn't an obesity problem amongst magical children,” she mused distantly.

Harry Potter sniffed, “Fatphobic magic users,” he concluded in disgust.

“Health is important,” she pointed out diplomatically.

“So is mental health,” he grunted, and she couldn't really argue with that.

When they finally got to the classroom, she couldn't help but wilt under the stares of everyone in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, the looks of outright disbelieving glee and nasty amusement on her housemates, the confusion and judgement on the Ravenclaws, the concern on her friends – and then Harry Potter walked in behind her in all of his gross skeleton glory.

Lavender squealed in disgust, and even Seamus swore – losing Gryffindor five housepoints each as Professor Flitwick scolded them about being rude.

“Thank you for your assistance Miss Granger, please take Mister Potter to a seat, I'll be by once I've finished setting the task for today to get you both up to speed,” the diminutive professor promised, causing a strange hush to fall over the room as everyone went wide eyed and began to crane their heads to see 'Harry Potter' a bit better. The skeletal boy ignored then, gingerly sliding into his seat with shaky limbed relief, beginning to rub and knead at his thighs in pain.

Hermione quickly sat next to him and began to rummage in his bag, she knew she'd felt a few potion phials – and if he was as bad as she thought then there was no chance the teachers would have – there! She pulled out one of the phials she had been hunting for, Calming Drought – not what she was after, and kept looking.

“Front pocket,” Harry rasped quietly and she quickly changed location, pulling out a phial of pain reliever as she had hoped. “Thanks,” he whispered, popping the cork and chugging it in one with a gumption that she'd _never_ seen anyone, even pureblood, take potions with. Even the likes of Malfoy grimaced and pulled faces when taking his medicine.

She took the phial back off him once he'd finished and stowed it into his bag again, she wondered if he received a steady supply of them but now didn't really seem like the best time to ask – maybe at lunch she'd bring it up.

“Do you know how to write with a quill?” she asked softly, and he shook his head. “Okay, I'll take notes for you until you're a bit more used to it. Do you want to practice until Professor Flitwick comes to us, or watch the class?”

He gave it some obvious thought, which she appreciated, far too many people made knee-jerk decisions around here. Especially in Gryffindor. “The lesson won't make sense to me anyway. May as well get used to writing with a feather,” he concluded after some thought and she couldn't help but grin a little before diving into his bag to find the materials he needed.

She did her best to listen to the lesson, which was on charm attachment – charming an object and getting it to stick. So charming a pocketwatch to operate properly, or a candle to burn forever, or pot-pourri to be forever fresh. It was actually quite fascinating, she would have to research it further, the laundry scent packets she packed with her always lost their smell by the end of the second month. Beside her, Harry went through the alphabet with his quill, getting a feel for how it moved on his parchment, how quickly he ran out of ink, how it bled and blotched and creaked, flicking ink if he pressed too hard or at an awkward angle, or had it scratch through the parchment.

When he was finished, Professor Flitwick came to them.

* * *

_Harry Potter hadn't come to Hogwarts._

_Ron was so confused. How could he just... not be here? They were supposed to be bestfriends! Him, the invisible sixth son of the Weasley Clan with no good qualities would be the first one to befriend the Boy Who Lived, they were the same age and they would obviously both be Gryffindors together which meant they had seven years to be the best of friends. But instead... They hadn't even called his name at the Sorting._

_They skipped over him even though_ everyone _knew that Harry Potter would attend Hogwarts. Even his_ sister _knew Harry Potter would attend Hogwarts. It was all she talked about all summer. Nothing about Ron going to Hogwarts, it was all about him._

_Professor Dumbledore didn't even reference him in his opening speech. It was like... he didn't exist._

* * *

Of course the second the class ended everyone swarmed Harry, Hermione could only huff in anger and annoyance as she was squeezed away from him by Lavender and Pavarti. Everyone was asking him questions and talking amongst themselves, Ron Weasley was loudly declaring that he'd help him get to class even though he hadn't even been _asked to_ by Professor McGonagall.

She flinched and gasped when he proudly declared he would do a better job than she would because he wasn't a know-it-all twit. Pavarti giggled and glanced at her while Lavender ' _OooOOOoo_ 'd like she was still in junior school.

“You might not be a Know-it-all, but you're definitely an asshole,” Harry Potter's voice interrupted raspily, “I don't talk to bullies, go away.”

Hermione had the absolute _pleasure_ of seeing the twelve year old boy's mouth drop open in disbelief, his face flooding pink with embarrassment as someone their own age _finally_ called him on his horrible behaviour. Dean Thomas coughed on a laugh then, turning away as Ron flapped his mouth open and closed, unsure of what to say.

She decided then, Harry Potter was going to be her bestfriend.

She packed their things up and shouldered her way through the other Gryffindors to help him get to his feet, and between the two of them they were able to shuffle their way to Professor Griffiths' Defence class. She had been somewhat disappointed when the rumours that they would have Gilderoy Lockhart as a professor proved false, it would have been neat to have such an accomplished man be their teacher for a year, she thought. But of course he was much too busy to waste a year playing with children, really. Still, Professor Griffiths was nice, very old and technically retired, he came to teach them as a favour to Professor Dumbledore.

They were late again, but it was to be expected, Harry was getting a lot slower though and not handling the stairs very well. In fact, by the time they reached the fourth floor, his knees buckled, and he couldn't walk anymore, they just wouldn't take his weight anymore.

“I'm going to check your leg, is that okay? You might be having muscle spasms and not feel it because of the pain relievers,” she warned him, kneeling down beside him.

He nodded, grimacing and shivering where he was sat on the stone floor, looking like some awful abandoned doll. She made sure he could see her every movement as she gently laid hands on his right leg and then slid one hand down to pull his trouser cuff up. He was _freezing_ and -

“Oh my god!” the twelve year old girl yelped, tears immediately springing to her eyes as she got a look at how _swollen_ and bruised his legs were. “You need to see Madam Pomfrey!” she squeaked, jumping to her feet, “I'm – I'm going to levitate you, and then we're going to run for the Hospital Wing. I've – I've never levitated a person, I'll try to go quickly but I might have to put you down a few times,” she babbled, drawing her wand out with shaking hands.

He looked at her with those awful sunken in too bright acid green eyes that saw too much and nearly glowed in his skull, “I trust you,” he rasped, and it felt almost like an awful condemnation, as if he knew she would let him down even as he put his trust in her.

Not today!

Hermione Granger hadn't let a single person down before in her life, not her parents, her teachers, or her babysitters! She was _not_ going to let her new bestfriend down! Not when he needed her so much!

“ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ”

* * *

_Fujiwara Satoshi was unusual for a lot of Japanese men in that he married into the Fujiwara family and took his wife's name, his beloved Megumi was the eldest child of Fujiwara Ichirou, Chairman of the Fujiwara Conglomerate, a multibillion yen company with their fingers in multiple industries from Defence, electronics, publishing, pharmaceuticals, and fashion. He himself had been the head of a Cyber Security company that had been bought out, Megumi-chan had been a hardworking fashion designer and tailor in a relatively low position within her own branch of the company. He'd had no idea who she was when they met, when he asked her to coffee, when he fell in love with her warm heart, kindness, and motherly presence. She was the perfect woman. He only learned_ who _she was when he asked to meet her father so he could request her hand in marriage – Ichirou-sama allowed it, with the single demand that he give up his former name and become his son. He had accepted._

_When Megumi gave birth to their first son, Akira, he had been thrilled. His little boy had her kind eyes, and his skin-tone, and a loud belly laugh that charmed everyone around him, especially his grandfather who was an entirely different man behind the closed doors of their home. He had a perfect family and life. Even more so when Megumi-chan brought their second son, Ryuji, into the world._

_Now this._

_His family was falling apart. His beloved Megumi-chan couldn't stop crying, Ryuji wondered the house searching for his big brother and crying when he couldn't find him, too young to understand that his oniichan was in the hospital. And Satoshi could only hold his son's hand and watch him sleep – a death trap attached to his head._

_Not once did the Dursley family visit their nephew in the bed next to his son._

_Not once did Dursley Petunia come and check on her nephew, or hold his hand, or cry over him. Not once did Dursley Vernon speak to a nurse or a doctor and ask when his beloved nephew would be rescued. Not once was Dursley Dudley seen on the premises. None of them signed in, they didn't even_ attempt _to visit. He knew because Megumi-chan had asked the nurses, asked them and then come in and cried over the ten year old boy that was only_ in _this situation because of them. Who was just as trapped as their Akira, but with no one to care about him._

“ _Still no change?” Ichirou-sama's voice inquired gravely from the doorway as he came in._

_Satoshi shook his head, stroking Akira's soft tanned hand, “No,” he whispered, “His heartrate increased not too long ago but it went down pretty quickly. I think he was just startled. I'm – I'm sure he's somewhere safe,” he whispered, raising that soft little hand to his lips and kissing it. Holding it to his lips and squeezing his eyes shut, praying that his son could feel it, feel his love even in that horrible death game._

_He felt his father-in-law's hand on his shoulder, squeezing and anchoring, heavy and grounding. Ichirou-sama had many expectations, but he had always been supportive and strong, he was their lighthouse in the storm, their anchor in hard times and pillar of support for the company. He leaned into the man's side ever so slightly, feeling the hand on his shoulder slide to his hair and stroke him. Megumi-chan did the same, giggling once upon a time ago that no one would ever believe her when she said her father was a softie, he hadn't believed her either, such a stern and scary man? Then he witnessed him blow raspberries into Akira's soft belly while his son roared with laughter and flailed his chubby little limbs._

“ _Young Harry-kun?” he asked softly._

 _Satoshi pulled away, a painfilled noise bubbling out of his mouth, “No one's come for him. His heart-rate keeps spiking. I don't – I don't think_ he's _in a safe place.”_

_Ichirou-sama moved away and sat between the two beds where Megumi-chan normally sat, ready to turn to whichever of the boys she thought needed her support at any given time. He took young Harry-kun's hand and squeezed tiny pale fingers between his own. “I do not think young Harry-kun has been in a safe place for a long time. Has Megumi spoken to you about the child?”_

_Satoshi swallowed, nodding, “Yes. She wants to adopt him. Is – it true? Has that family really left?” he asked, unsure if he wanted, or even could, believe that they would just abandon their nephew in a foreign country._

“ _No. They have not left yet, but they intend to. Without their child,” he intoned, face hard, looking more forbidding than Satoshi had ever seen him, even when they first met and he was asking the man for the hand of his only daughter in marriage with a scant million yen of savings, a single cat, and a twenty-five square foot flat to his name. “Megumi wishes for them to waive their custody rights and sign the child over to our family before they leave.”_

_He looked at the tiny foreign boy, remembering the careful bow he would give every time he saw them, his quiet attempt at greeting him in Japanese having only heard other people speak it above his head. How he would hold Ryuji's hand and walk extra slowly where-ever his youngest wanted to go in the house, how he talked Akira out of trouble and distracted him from mischief and even got him to do his homework before, how he helped the housekeepers without needing to be asked, and picked up after himself and his sons. And then he thought about the Dursleys' son, the beastly little boy who stepped on Ryuji's hands while throwing a tantrum, who threw the controller of the game he was playing at Akira when he lost and insulted his sons and spent the single day he was there demanding sweets and food, scattering crumbs and wrappers everywhere. How he casually hurt his much smaller cousin, took his foot without hesitation even in front of others, as if it was expected that he would be able to get away with it, and when told off would scream and throw himself down on the floor._

“ _I'm willing,” Satoshi said, the words slipping out of his mouth as he thought about what kind of life young Harry led in the Dursley household that would lead his cousin to think such things were acceptable, and would prompt young Harry to be so quiet and obedient. “Ryuji thinks the world of him, and Akira was dreading losing his bestfriend.” As the sons of such a rich family, often they were lonely unsure of what friends they had being their friends for themselves or their name. Harry had met them with an honesty both had leaned into like sunflowers to light._

_Ichirou-sama relaxed, his face softening as he stroked young Harry's hand. “That is good. If you had not accepted, I would have adopted him myself. Rinko would have made me sleep in the guest house, we're far too old to be keeping up with energetic ten year olds anymore.”_

_Satoshi chuckled, his mother in law would have certainly had a thing or thirty to say._

* * *

She got him there in one go, and Madam Pomfrey was quick to bustle him to a bed, flicking privacy screens up around his bed as she braced her hands on her knees and panted, dragging lungfuls of air into her body like she hadn't done since Junior school and doing the hundred metre sprint on sportsday. Climbing stairs continuously meant that she didn't put on any weight like one would expect with feasts and chocolate frogs and the like, but it didn't mean she was particularly adept at racing down them if need be.

“Is – is – he – alright, Ma-Madam Pomfrey?” she gasped, still breathing hard, now feeling a little sickly from the exertion.

The school nurse sniffed unhappily, “He'll live. But he's not leaving this bed until tomorrow at the very least,” she declared bustling around and collecting a few potions, muttering under her breath, “Honestly, what were they thinking bringing him here in such a state?” she grumbled as she returned to the boy's bedside, whisking the curtains back so that Hermione could gingerly make her way over.

He was in hospital wing issue pjs, and had both of his feet elevated on a mountain of pillows, knees supported as well, thick warm socks on and an extra blanket wrapped up tightly across his neck and shoulders. He looked very cosy, but also very unwell.

“Drink these, Potter, they'll help with the muscle ache and cold,” Madam Pomfrey told him, watching as a skeletal hand slipped from the depths to collect a phial and neck it. Hermione was still amazed. It was like he didn't even taste or feel whatever it was he was drinking, it all just went down the hatch. “Don't you have lessons, Ms Granger?” the nurse asked, glancing at her as a second phial was collected and drunk.

She jumped a little at being addressed and floundered, “Oh, um, P-Professor McGonagall asked me to stay with him. Um. I suppose I should but....” She glanced at the thin boy and felt a twist in her stomach, she looked at Madam Pomfrey, “I'll make up the work later, please can I stay? If I run back to the tower, I can get our first year text books from my trunk and help Harry with what he's missed while he's here! That way he won't be bored – _not that you're boring Madam Pomfrey, or the hospital wing!_ ” she yelped, waving her hands frantically as she realised how that might have come across.

The nurse eyed her for a moment before sighing, “Very well. But this is something we will need to discuss with your head of house if you plan to make a habit of it as Mister Potter will doubtlessly be staying here for the foreseeable future, until walking up to Gryffindor tower doesn't cause him harm. Run along, get your books. I will forward a message to your professors to let them know your where abouts. What lessons do you have today?” she asked summoning a slip of parchment and a quill.

“Defence now, then its History of Magic, and Transfiguration after lunch,” she explained excitedly, thrilled to be allowed to stay with her new friend.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, “Off you go, and don't dawdle. I won't be justifying your truancy to Mister Filch if he catches you,” she warned with a lopsided smirk as the girl nodded rapidly.

“I'll be right back, Harry!” she promised and sped out of the hospital wing, only just about catching his rasping agreement before she was gone, taking the stairs as quickly as possible back to the tower, and a few shortcuts she normally didn't take because the Slytherin and Gryffindor upper-years tended to monopolise them and she didn't like the idea of being in small spaces with the older students who didn't like her for one reason or another. She got to Gryffindor tower faster than she'd ever managed before now, and rushed up to her dormitory, ignoring the confusion amongst the upper years who happened to have a free period as she threw open her trunk and grabbed her first year texts. Best to get the Standard Book of Spells, uhm, Magical Theory, Hogwarts a History was an absolute must, and....The Muggleborn's Introductory Guide to Magic. Perfect!

She gathered up all the books and shoved them into her backpack, slammed her trunk shut, and rushed back out.

She had to walk the latter half of the way back, too busy wheezing unhealthily to run and her legs felt like jelly after so much running – was this how Harry felt right before they gave out on him? Or rather, how he would have felt if the pain relievers let him feel anything.

She slipped into the hospital wing, practically glowing with excitement now that she had her breath back, only for her face to fall as she reached his bed.

He was sleeping.

...Poor thing, she thought, staring at his face. He shouldn't have been there. He should be in an actual hospital. She sighed quietly and set the books she'd collected on his bedside table before writing him a quick note, telling him that he'd fallen asleep before she got back so she left the books for him. He could keep them as long as he needed to, and if he had any questions she'd be happy to answer them. She'll come back after dinner to see how he was, he looked like he needed the rest.

She set the note on top of the books where it would be easily seen and watched him for a moment.

What had even _happened_ to him?

All she knew was that.... He had been taken away from his legal guardians by Professor Dumbledore for his own safety, to teach him how to control his magic, but he hadn't wanted to go. Even though taking him away was bad for his health. Did his family treat him badly?

Her eyes skated across his face and body.

Had he been starved? That would definitely explain why he was so thin..... and all the potions he had to take. But not why he found it so hard to walk around, unless.... unless he wasn't _just_ starved, he could be very sick? Or he might have been in a coma or had cancer or something? He clearly couldn't walk very well....

She would look in the library for some healing texts, if she could learn a few spells to help him then maybe he could get out of the hospital wing faster if he had his own personal nurse close to hand?

Hmm.... did the magical world have a concept of physiotherapy? She remembered her Mum having to do a lot after she broke her leg skiing in france when the cast came off. _Oh!_ Oh, _that_ was what this reminded her of! Her mother's _muscle atrophy!_

She rushed out of the hospital wing, heading straight to the owlry – she had to get her mother to send her all of her NHS print-outs about how to safely do physiotherapy! And, she'd take them to Madam Pomfrey and talk to her, and if she could find out what happened to Harry then she could ask her mother to get her some more books to be passed onto Madam Pomfrey! Surely with magic and potions helping him along he'll be able to half his therapy time at the very least!

* * *

“Sword Art Online _?” Harii-chan echoed hesitantly._

_Akira nodded excitedly, “Yeah! It's the first VRMMORPG on the NerveGear!” he gushed excitedly, his English choppy and slurring unacceptably but he didn't care and Harry never told him off or demanded that he repeat himself or call him stupid for not speaking right like his dumpling of a cousin._

_Harii-chan hummed and smiled at him, “You're happy,” he concluded, and Akira beamed. Harii realised that while he could speak English he still wasn't as good as his parents, so he tried to keep his sentences easy._

“ _Un!” he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and rushing to collect his tablet from the coffee table where the Miki-oba was keeping an eye on them. She glanced down at him with a smile but went back to watching something on her phone as he rushed back to Harii and began tapping at the screen. Harii didn't know how to use tablets, but he liked watching Akira use them and it made him feel important to show off for the older boy. “Here! SAO! These are.... um... pu-rin-to su-ku-rii-n-su of the game,” he explained, having to slow and sound out the word he wasn't too sure about. It was such a long word and complicated. English was hard._

“ _Wow, it's pretty,” Harii said, staring at the screen with bright eyes. They were such a pretty shade of green, Akira really liked them, they reminded him of his mum's brown eyes, how they seemed to light up. “This is really a game?” he asked, looking at Akira excitedly._

_He nodded rapidly, “Yes!” He paused then before beaming, “Will you play with me?”_

“ _Play SAO?” Harii echoed, suddenly hesitant._

_Akira nodded, “Yes. I want to play with my friend.”_

“ _But the NerveGear, that's expensive isn't it? And there's only ten thousand games. I can't let your family buy something so expensive for me,” he protested unhappily._

_He didn't understand a lot of those words. Akira flustered, “Ano, eto.... Miki-oba?!” he called in distress._

_Miki-oba smiled up at them, “Harry-kun, the NerveGear isn't that expensive for the Fujiwara family. The game might be a little harder to come by but if you're both connected to the same machine there only needs to be the one game. If you're that worried, I have a NerveGear I don't really have the time to use. You can borrow it while you're here in Japan,” she offered with a kind smile._

_Akira nodded and gestured to her, “Yes! Play with me Harii-chan,_ pleeeeeeeeease _?!” he begged, making his eyes go as big and fluttery as he could._

_Harii-chan shifted uncertainly but after a second glance at a smiling Miki-oba, he nodded._

“ _YATTA!!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings for Harry are undecided at this moment in time, I don't intend to pair him with Silica or Hermione, though they will be huge parts of his life. Nor will he be paired with Klein, Agil, or Kirito, all of whom are seven years or more older than him. Right now though..... I got no plot lmao, nothing beyond seeing what might happen with a Harry who gives exactly zero shits and acts much older than he actually is because (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ _**t R A u m A**_ *:･ﾟ✧
> 
> And don't worry, the Fujiwara family will feature more. They're most definitely going to be looking for their missing lamb, and Dumbledore is not going to know what fucking hit him when the world of Corporate Interests discover an entirely new market to bleed- _I MEAN EXPLORE!!_ Definitely explore. After they've bled Dumbledore for everything he owns and even a few organs after abducting Harry and making Master Akira cry over the loss of his Niichan.
> 
> Special thanks to Locked In Digital by RogueDruid (Icarius51) for giving me the inspiration for how to actually write this - their use of flashbacks in LiD gave me the boot up the backside to make this fic happen.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _Ehhh, so plain!” Akira complained when he got a look at the avatar Harry had created for Sword Art Online._

_Harry smiled, “I like it. No one will look too close,” he explained as he turned back to his generic looking avatar, a normal looking teenage boy with short, neat black hair, brown eyes, and lightly tanned skin. He was tall though, tall with wide shoulders, Harry wanted to be taken seriously in the game and he didn't like the idea of people looking down on him. He'd chosen his starting skills as One Handed Sword, and Acrobatics. He would supposedly get a third slot at level six, a forth one at twelve, fifth at twenty, and then receive a new slot for every ten levels._

“ _What's your name?” Akira asked, squinting at the English characters, “Su-toru-mu – eto...”_

“ _Stormlight,” he supplied, blushing a little, “I like Star Wars, Luke Skywalker is my favourite character but I'm not as nice as him so... Storm. But I want to be a good person and not go to the Darkside, so Light. Stormlight. Sounds cool, right?” he asked only semi hopefully._

“ _Yes!” Akira exclaimed, nodding rapidly, grey eyes bright. “I like Han Solo! And Leia-hime! Darth Vader is very cool too!”_

“ _Have you made your avatar?” Harry asked, saving his profile and shifting to one side so that Akira could join him and start hitting buttons, logging himself in._

“ _Yes! I am Arashi! It also means Storm!” he exclaimed excitedly as he went into his profile and showed off his incredibly handsome character with long black hair and cool features, vivid ice blue eyes and white hair dressed in black starting gear. His starting skills were set to One Handed Rapier and Parry. “I'm going to be cool,” the other ten year old declared smugly before humming, “If you are Storm_ light _, maybe I should change my name to Arashi no Yami? Storm_ dark _?” he suggested, peering at Harry who smiled._

“ _If you want.”_

_The Japanese boy hummed but eventually shook his head, “Too many characters and my kanji isn't very good yet,” he sighed._

* * *

It was easy to remember that he wasn't in SAO when he woke up, there was still the strange mental hiccup where he expected to see in crystal clarity but couldn't, when he expected to snap awake and cognizant immediately, where everything was just that little bit too bright and colour saturated and the background music drowned out the distant white noise of the world.

Reality was so much more uncomfortable than SAO.

He woke up exhausted, in pain, feeling like shit, slowly and groggily, messily, his vision blurred, fading in and out, his ears were ringing in the unexpected silence, the distant sound of children moving around in the distance, and the smell of woodsmoke, citrus, and clean linen. His mouth tasted dry and metallic, and his joints ached like fire.

He... he wanted to go back.

Back to SAO where at least it didn't hurt, and he could be with Akira and Agil and Silica and Asuna and Klein.

Even _crying_ hurt in reality.

“Good evening, Mister Potter,” the nurse declared briskly, marching towards him as he squeezed his eyes shut in pain, as his body tried to muster tears that just wouldn't come. “You're just in time for dinner. How are you feeling? Up to some soup?” she asked already whipping that wooden stick out to adjust his bed much like a normal hospital bed would bend – only he wasn't able to control it.

He bared his teeth at her in an unhappy smile, “Awful. Horrible. I hate it here. I want to go home. Soup is fine,” he rasped out in unfriendly tones.

Her wand wavered for a moment and a moment later it was conducting down his body, “On a scale of one to ten, one being an uncomfortable itch and ten being about to pass out and unable to think of anything else, how much pain are you in?” she asked briskly, completely ignoring the last three things he said. As expected. These people, they were all complicit in his kidnapping – he had to figure out a way of getting out of here at the first opportunity. He knew that the Fujiwara's had adopted him, he was legally Akira's brother, he had been welcomed into their family, Megumi-san and Satoshi-san had sat vigil at his bedside throughout the entirety of SAO. They _wanted_ him in their family, and he wanted to be in theirs. He had to get word back to them somehow, he was a Japanese citizen thanks to the adoption, he needed to get to the embassy and get _home_. Away from these people.

“Six,” he rasped. His whole body hurt, some places more than others, but there was no escaping or ignoring it.

A moment later, he was being handed more suspicious substances and being instructed to drink. The last time he'd refused they'd literally used their sticks to force it down his throat, he didn't want to experience that again so he did as he was told, glaring all the while.

A tray with soup, more suspicious drugs in glass phials and tiny bottles, and a glass of milk appeared for his dinner. And the nurse bustled off with a stern command to take his 'potions' and get as much of that soup down as he could. He hated it here, he hated it so much. He wanted to throw the tray at her departing back but barely had the strength to pull his bowl closer, never mind throw it at her.

“Oh good!” a young female voice exclaimed from the otherside of the room, he paused, spoon half raised, to see the curly haired Hermione trotting over, beaming excitedly to see him. “How are your legs doing?” she asked, quickly occupying the seat next to him.

He shrugged and sipped his spoonful, “They hurt,” he stated, keeping his tone even. She was hardly responsible for the wrong-doing of everyone around her.

She drooped sadly, “I'm sorry to hear that. Do you – mind if I asked what happened? You don't have to answer if you – ”

“Sword Art Online,” he grunted through his soup.

“I – beg your pardon?” she asked, confused.

“The Sword Art Online incident. I was in it,” he grunted, watching her from the corner of his eye as she frowned in confusion, obviously thinking. Huh. He would have thought it was huge news around the world, ten thousand people trapped in a VR-Death Game. “The VRMMO incident two years ago.” Her expression immediately lit up with recognition, and then turned to horror.

“You – ” She looked him up and down, her lips trembling and her eyes going suspiciously bright and shiny the same way Silica's did when she was trying not to cry. “So I was right, it _is_ muscle atrophy,” she decided, quite out of the blue.

But not incorrectly.

He nodded, “Yes. Essentially, I've been in a coma for two and a half years. I woke up a little over a month ago, and then some weirdo in a dress barges into my hospital room and takes me _here_ ,” he spat furiously, “Saying its for my own good. Somehow, kidnapping twelve year olds out of their hospital rooms doesn't really seem _good_ for them,” he rasped, throwing his spoon across the room, only he was so weak all it did was bounce off the bottom of his bedspread and clatter to the floor.

“But, surely the potions will make your recovery faster, right? And Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain!” she reasoned, as though she were trying to convince herself of it.

Stormlight scoffed, “Kidnapping is still kidnapping is still _illegal_ ,” he croaked, voice scratching and painful. This was the most he'd said since he'd woken up, and he was so _furious_ because really? Fucking _really?_ “Magic potions. How is that supposed to fix something that isn't there?” he demanded, his voice cracking and breaking, turning into a painful hoarse whisper. “I want to go home. I want to see my little brothers. I _just_ got a family, a real one, one that actually _cares_ about me,” his voice wobbled and his eyes began hurting as he felt the tears try to rise again. “And now I'm here, in a school I can't attend, in a house I can't get to, half way around the world from everyone I know.”

She threw her arms around him, and the words died in his throat. She felt warm and heavy, her hair smelt like... he didn't know. It actually had a smell though. He never smelt anything from Silica or Asuna when he hugged them, SAO didn't have an olfactory system.

“Do you want me to write my parents and have them get into contact with them?” she asked, “They must be worried sick.”

His heart swelled and he found himself grabbing hold of her as strongly as he could, it hurt, but, “You'd do that? They can do that?” he whispered hoarsely.

She nodded tearfully, “Yes. I'm so sorry you went through this Harry. I'll make it right, I promise,” she swore, roughly wiping her face and tugging a sheet of parchment from her bag. “What are their contact details?”

His happiness died immediately.

“I – I never go them. But – if they go to the Japanese Embassy, they can help!” he rasped. “I was adopted by Satoshi and Megumi Fujiwara while I was in the SAO incident. I was a patient at the Temporary Sakura Hospital in Tokyo, ward A, room six. I shared with my brother Akira Fujiwara, we had a double-connection. If you tell them that, they'll know who I am, they can access my hospital records and contact my family,” he wheezed.

She nodded, scratching quickly with her quill before shoving it all aside to grab his glass of milk and practically shove it in his face, “Drink, carefully,” she ordered and he didn't even argue as with her help he managed to actually get several mouthfuls in him instead of on him. “I'll ask Percy, one of the Gryffindor Prefects, if I can borrow his owl Hermes to send it. I sent a school owl off earlier today to my mum, if I try to send another one so soon the other owls won't come down.”

He nodded, “Thank you,” he croaked.

She beamed, “Don't thank me just yet. I still have to convince Percy.”

* * *

_He grimaced as the weird lights from the nervegear scanned his eyes and then instructed him to do a series of stretches and touch himself. He did as he was told and quickly got dressed, blushing slightly when he glanced over to Akira to see him in the middle of his own calibration test, bare as the day he was born. Japanese culture didn't have the same taboo on nudity amongst same-sex individuals that Harry had grown up with so, the constant demands from both Ryuji and Akira to share the bath with him had been a bit uncomfortable._

_But it didn't take long after that._

“ _Ready?!” Akira burst, bouncing up and down in excitement._

_Harry chuckled a little, “We still have an hour before game start though.”_

“ _Only one hour to get ready!” the boy exclaimed, flailing his arms gleefully. “I want to fight dragon! Are there any on the first floor?” he wondered gleefully._

“ _Maybe. I don't think so. Dragons would be big and strong, so on the higher floors maybe?” he suggested with a smile. They continued chattering, the Japanese boy practically bouncing on his bed, Miki the nanny popped her head in to see if they needed anything before reminding them that they would be sitting down for dinner at six to to please be logged off and dressed by quarter too?_

_And then, Akira squeaked suddenly, eyes sliding past Harry to his digital clock._

“ _Harry! Three! It is three!” he exclaimed, quickly shoving all the blankets down and grabbing the thin comforter to throw over them both. Akira's bed was unfairly huge, but it meant there was enough space for the both of them to share as they pulled the thin blanket up to their shoulders and lay back._

“ _We'll find each other, right?” Harry asked, suddenly anxious. His Japanese wasn't great, it was actually pretty much non-existent despite his best efforts._

“ _Eeeeto, the whistle!” Akira exclaimed with a grin, rolling over on the huge bed to grin at him from his helmet, “I teached you my secret whistle. You whistle, I will go,” he promised with a bright beaming grin that made something warm relax in Harry's chest._

“ _Okay,” he agreed with a smile as they once again got themselves comfortable. He stared up at the ceiling with excitement fizzling away in the pit of his stomach. “_ Link start!”

* * *

Hermione Granger was a twelve year old girl on a mission, and Percy Weasley was no fool about to get in the way of that.

“As long as it isn't a dangerous area, yes you may borrow Hermes for a letter to your parents,” the prefect said kindly, watching as the girl's face lit up in a mixture of relief and happiness. Whatever she had been so desperate to talk to her family about was clearly very important to her because she looked as though she were on the verge of physically fighting him for it. “Though, can I ask why you don't use a school owl?”

She flushed a little bit, “I already sent mum a letter earlier this morning asking for some medical information for Harry. The school owls won't let me send another letter so soon and this is _important_ ,” she stressed, hands fisting unhappily.

Percy nodded, “If I could, I'd award you a point for taking care of your housemates, Hermione, but for now, let's see if we can't coax Hermes down from the rafters, shall we?” he offered with a grin, pleased to have been able to help, and to be trusted enough that she knew she could come to him. The twins had stopped looking to him for help when he heard some of their more dangerous prank ideas and had gone to their mother, worried they were going to hurt themselves, or Ron whom they had been experimenting on, or blow the roof of the house off. They'd taken it as an absolute betrayal, never mind that they had been about to drink _acid_ out of their cauldron, and hadn't spoken well to him or of him since. Ron had followed their example with speed, ever easily led, but thankfully Ginny still at least _listened_ to him when he said something was dangerous, she would at least come to him over the others if she needed help with something because he would always give her his time. He missed his brothers, the ones he used to have. It was nice that Ron hadn't managed to turn his entire year group against him the way the twins had their own.

Between the two of them, they managed to bribe Hermes from the owlry to carry little Hermione's letter, the dignified screech own reassuringly nibbling at her fingers before he took flight, making her giggle. And then he was gone, winging away towards the already dark horizon.

“I hope the embassy listen,” she whispered, blowing on her chilled fingers, the temperature had dropped quite sharply this year, it was scarcely two weeks into October and students were already in scarves and gloves.

Percy paused, all thoughts of self-appreciation for a job well done falling away in confusion and sudden trepidation, “Embassy?” he echoed.

She looked up at him, eyes gold and unsettling in the torch-light of the owlry doors. “Harry asked me to contact his family.”

“Surely all he need do is use a school owl?” he asked even as he realised that with the word 'embassy', it was likely too far afield for a regular hour to be happy flying.

Hermione shook her head again, “No. This will be faster. They're probably crazy with worry as it is.... Ron said your dad likes muggle things, right? How much do you know about Virtual Reality Gaming?” she asked seriously.

“Only what I've heard from the others. That it's playing a game while you sleep. If it were magic it would be considered dark immediately and outlawed, connecting minds like that. Things like that are heavily frowned upon and regulated,” he explained seriously. He could see the questions burning on the tip of her tongue but she swallowed them away with a very impressive display of self-control, for her.

“There was an incident a few years ago. A mad man trapped ten thousand people in one of the dream games on the otherside of the planet. Harry was one of them. That's why he's so thin and weak and small, his body hasn't had any exercise or sun or even proper food for almost three years. He'd only just woken up when he was brought here without his family's permission. They don't know where he is. Nor do his little brothers, and, one of them was in the game with him, so he's really worried,” she admitted, wringing her hands in the cold with her upset as Percy physically felt his brain hiccup and go blank in confusion.

Harry Potter had been missing, everyone knew that. Dumbledore hid him away after Halloween to protect him from the remaining Death Eaters, but every now and again, a witch or a wizard would gush about having met him. How polite and nice he was, how small and cute, how they shook his hand or waved or bowed, and he smiled at them. Everyone had been looking forward to his return. Only it didn't happen. Ron complained about how he must have felt he was too good for them. Ginny had written long letters asking where he was and what had happened. Everyone had been worried, speculation ran rampant while Dumbledore stayed silent no matter what questions were asked. People believed he had gone to a different wizarding school only for that to be proven false, then news hit the Daily Prophet and everyone knew that the Boy Who Lived had vanished from his muggle relatives. Fingers were pointed at the former Death Eaters and many of them were dragged back in for questioning that money couldn't buy them out of, not with the way the public were baying for answers – and blood. Men and women who claimed _imperio_ found themselves with a fresh ticket to Azkaban, and to his father's delight, Lucius Malfoy was very nearly one of them as Fudge threw him under the bus of 'needing to be seen to do something' and questioned. Malfoy cut a deal, rolled on his former colleagues, and kept himself out of Azkaban, but nearly crippled himself financially to pay off various fines. He hadn't been seen in the Ministry since, and Fudge was studiously avoiding contact with him according to his father.

It felt like his brain was stuck and wouldn't contemplate the situation further.

Malfoy rolled on the Death Eaters. None of them knew where Harry Potter had been, or currently was. None of them had any designs on Harry Potter. No one had heard anything to do with Harry Potter or plans against him.

Harry Potter came to Hogwarts.

Harry Potter came to Hogwarts halfway through the first term looking like a walking corpse, unable to even physically attend his lessons.

Harry Potter who claimed to have been taken from his family without their knowledge because who else would have told Hermione but the boy himself? Who else would tell about what happened and where he'd been and give her a means to contact said family? His abusive muggle family?

His mind latched onto that instead. That made sense. He knew that abused children latched onto their abusers, choosing the known quality over the fearful unknown. “Hermione, I understand your desire to help your friend, but this really is something that should have gone through Professor McGonagall first. Harry Potter was removed from his muggle family for good reason, they abandoned him – ”

“Oh, not _them_ ,” she scoffed dismissively. “Why would I need to contact an embassy to talk to them when they live in England?” she asked with a look of revulsion. “I'm not talking about his first family, I would never! He asked me to contact his new family, the one that adopted him recently. He said his blood relatives abandoned him when he was in the game incident and his bestfriend's parents took him in afterwards, did all the paperwork, got his Aunt and Uncle to sign custody over to them, and paid all of his hospital bills as well. He hasn't seen _them_ in three years. He wanted me to contact the Fujiwaras', the people who adopted him.”

Which would mean that Harry Potter had been taken from his _legal_ guardians without their knowledge or approval.

Harry Potter had been kidnapped.

Percy's head was spinning.

* * *

_Harry opened his eyes and grimaced, blinking rapidly as the world bowled out around him, brighter and more colourul than he expected. Like a high summer day where someone had turned up the colour saturation on the trees and buildings around him, making them almost blinding. He looked down, feeling weirdly light and stretched out, too tall. His hands were large and flat and tanned, unfamiliar, almost uncomfortable and alien as he flexed them. He could feel the pressure of his own fingers but... that was so weird, he couldn't feel any texture. It felt like he'd been sat on his hand for ten minutes but without the pins and needles. He looked up, feeling hair brushing his cheeks, and took in the world from three feet higher than he normally did._

_Someone in the plaza was whistling._

_He twitched and turned his head, Akira's jaunty whistle filling his ears as he made a beeline for it, grinning in relief when he spotted his friend's carefully designed avatar whistling for him._

“ _Ak-_ Arashi! _” he called, catching the other boy's attention, unfamiliar blue eyes lighting up as the much taller handsome man beamed and hurried over. Completely breaking his 'cool' persona to drag him into a headlock once he was close enough._

“ _Stormlight. You are handsome! But I am taller,” he exclaimed smugly, even sounding unfamiliar for all that the way he spoke was the same._

_Harry laughed and leaned into him, idly noting that yes, Akira's avatar was a few inches taller. He could feel the pressure and warmth of his friend's body, but there was no smell, he didn't feel the texture of his clothes or the difference between cotton or leather equipment. He didn't feel the prickle of discomfort he normally felt when someone touched him either, none of the hot rushing sick anticipation. He grinned and wound an arm around his friend, hugging him with a laugh. If Akira knew that he would be less uncomfortable with touching in the game, he hadn't said a thing, and Harry wasn't about to bring it up either._

“ _What now? How do we play?” he asked once the laughter had abated and they stopped hugging and swinging each other around foot to foot like idiots._

_Akira jumped back and slammed a fist into his hand, “WEAPONS! SAO is swords! I want a sword!” he proclaimed exciteably._

_Harry chuckled, that looked a lot more embarrassing from a grown up than a kid like they actually were, but no one around them seemed to be paying attention, weird behaviour must have been pretty normal. He yelped in surprise as the taller player grabbed his arm and dragged him away. “You chose One Handed Sword and Acrobatics as your starting skills, yes?” Akira asked as he ran through the crowds of people, Harry towed easily behind him. It was surprisingly easy to get his feet under him and follow, they had similar speed stats if Harry recalled from their character creation pages. Though if Harry recalled, he had chosen to put more points in his constitution while Akira had put his into strength, mainly because Harry knew he was going to get hit, so wanted it to hurt less, while Akira wanted to be a precision super strong fighter who could kill with a single strike because that was the_ coolest _._

“ _Here! First weapon shop. We can get sword here,” the boy declared with a grin before turning to the NPC and babbling some Japanese at him. Harry caught a few words,_ boku _meant he was referring to himself, but it was a young way of doing it, and it outed him as a child._ Ken _was sword. And he called the man behind the stand_ jiji _which meant gramps according to Akira's mother, Megumi-san._

_A moment later, a clear grey window popped up in front of him with a bunch of Japanese lettering, making him droop a little in confusion. Ah. They hadn't considered a language barrier in the actual game itself. And SAO was never meant to go international according to the magazines, so there was no multi-lingual language options._

_Akira yelped when he saw it, “Sorry! It is trade window, press the blue and get sword and potions!” he explained enthusiastically, quickly putting his finger to the window and reading out the sentence in Japanese slowly for Harry to understand, before repeating it as best he could in English. Harry hummed and did as he was told, hearing a series of little ringing bell noises as he did so. A second box popped up without any coloured items, just a little bronze x in the top right hand corner. “You have sword. Open your.... thing. Like this,” Akira explained, struggling to find the right word before giving up and reaching out to grab Harry's hand, arranging his fingers to stroke the air in front of him. There was a ringing bell and another window popped up, this one had a greyed out human figure with a bunch of little lines and glowing dots coming off it. It had three bars at the bottom, a green one, a yellow one, and a red one. And a bunch of boxes next to the figure._

“ _Health,” Akira stated, pointing to the green. “Eeto... running? Time running? PE class?” he asked as he pointed to the yellow._

“ _Stamina?” Harry suggested, remembering a few of Dudley's screaming fits at the computer._

“ _Yes!” Akira cheered pointing at him before pointing to the red bar, “EXP. Level up. Get strong. I show you,” he declared cheerfull, doing some weird hand gestures of his own to summon a rapier to hand with a toothy grin._

* * *

Stormlight was about to start climbing the damn walls.

It wasn't that he was excited to go to a magic school, that itself was pretty cool, he would definitely have to look into magic schools in _other damn countries_ , specifically Japan. He just couldn't stand being stuck in the nurse's office doing absolutely nothing but drinking suspicious liquids and reading the driest collection of books possible. Aside from Hermione's periodic visits to talk to him and answer any questions he had or deliver books on anything that actually interested him, the only bright points of his day were all the weird injuries and ailments that the other students came in with.

A boy older than him came in wearing what he thought were knobbly red gloves at one point only for the nurse to tut and comment on how you were supposed to _drain_ the puss, not put your hands in it. She then slathered the hands in stinking green ointment that made them start shrinking and smooth out into a pair of actual human hands. Five minutes after he left a boy appeared hiccuping and vomiting up slugs so hard he was having trouble breathing, he hiccuped mid-cough up on one of them, nearly swallowed it, actually _vomited_ , and nearly inhaled the vomit _as well_ as the slugs in it. The horrible sight and smell made him want to throw up as well, never mind trying to imagine the texture or taste of what the poor boy was going through. He was spelled, given a breath mint, and told to sit and recover for ten minutes before he was chivvied off back to class – passing the next student who appeared with llama hooves instead of hands and a sheepish expression as his friend brayed, like a donkey, with laughter. His trouser leg moving weirdly with what _had_ to be a tail.

Then Professor McGonagall appeared, “How are you feeling, Mister Potter?” she asked, sat in the chair next to him as he rose from the sticky depths of sleep that he had become so very prone to falling into since he escaped SAO.

He blinked hazily at her and sighed, rolling his head away to stare at the ceiling. “I want to go home,” he told her plainly.

“I'm sorry, Mister Potter....” she even sounded it. “It isn't safe.”

“For who?” he asked, suddenly angry as he turned to frown at her. “People don't go this far for a kid, celebrity or not. Not unless they want something. So, me going back home, who is it not safe for? Me or you?” he demanded harshly, voice crackling and rasping. Because in his personal experience, people were, to a T, self serving. They paid lip service to him not being allowed amongst the clearers, about forcing him back to Starting City with Akira and the other kids to stay in the 'Orphanage' (how insulting, he was the only actual orphan, everyone had parents, their families _weren't dead_ , they were just stuck in a game and unable to see them). But at the end of the day, Stormlight was too valuable as a fighter for them to leave on the back-line. Silica had been thirteen when she stepped out of Starting City, it was frowned upon sure, but by the time SAO was conquered she was fifteen, the same age as some of the first Clearers, the same age that _Kirito_ had been when he left Starting City. So no one could really say anything. Stormlight had been the youngest to leave Starting City, but his first forays had been solo, not for fighting purposes but crafting ones. But as the need for what he had to offer grew and pressures mounted, he was forced to go further afield and level up his skills in other ways, he always did it solo as well, until....

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, no doubt in a knee jerk answer that _of course_ it was for his own safety, only for the words to stick in her mouth as suspicion reared its ugly head in her mind. Good. He got the feeling that she wasn't a bad teacher, just that she, like everyone else, worshipped the ground that lemon drop sucking malcontent pranced on. Maybe now she'd start asking the right questions, questions that people _should_ have been asking of Heat- _him_.

Stormlight sighed, mood dropping along with his energy again.

“Is there anything I can do to make this transition easier on you, Harry?” she asked softly, personally, not as his teacher or head of house, but she herself. He thought of Hermione and her suggestion to get a magic chair to float him up and down the stairs but that would be a pain in the butt to carry all the time, and it wouldn't give him much freedom. He needed to get used to moving under his own power so he needed to be able to walk at least _some_ of the time. It wouldn't be very convenient to walk up a flight of stairs and be too tired to go anywhere and have his chair down at the bottom. There were other ways to get around, he hadn't used them before because of the no magic in the corridors rule and his first encounter with Filch threatening to string him up by his thumbs and whip him (if he tried it, Stormlight was _going_ to stab him).

“Yeah. Give me permission to use magic in the hallways,” he requested roughly. “I can't climb all those stairs to class on my legs, they hurt too much after just one floor. And a chair is inconvenient and will get in the way of the other students. Let me fly.”

She stared at him, “You have not yet had flying lessons, Mister Potter, but I doubt you're speaking of broomsticks, are you?” she asked suspiciously.

Broomsticks? Cool, but not _as_ cool as his wings.

“ _Alf!_ ” he commanded, raising a hand suddenly wreathed in golden magic script. There was a flicker and suddenly crystalline white insect wings burst from between his shoulderblades, two longer and larger glowing wings atop two shorter and slightly narrower ones. They glowed and glittered faintly, light flaking off them like snow every time he moved. “They're part of my Unique Skill from SAO,” he explained as they fluttered and suddenly he was airborne, sliding out from his bedding and hovering in front of her. “They draw on my magic instead of my physical body, it means that when my legs give out and I'm too tired to walk, my wings can carry me instead.”

She reached up, touching the lowermost wing, feeling the faint buzz of magic warm against her fingertips, but there was no pain or negative backlash, it didn't interrupt his spell, whatever it was. “How long can you keep this spell active?” she asked.

“Ten minutes every half an hour,” he admitted with an expression of disgruntlement. “Long enough to get to and from lessons.” He really did wish it were longer. Being able to fly for extended periods of time was so useful, shame it didn't work in Dungeons so was useless when they were Dungeon Mapping for the Floor Boss. By the time he was level 50 he was already a Clearer so people were looking to recruit him and his maxed out Alchemy Skill, but when it got out that he had the Spellscript Unique Skill, everyone went absolutely rabid. Laughing Coffin even tried everal times to actively kill him just for the fame that it would generate for them – it got to the point where Agil begged him to join a big Guild just to get protection that he couldn't provide in his dinky little merchant shop. Asuna-nee had been the one to pave the way for his entry into the Knights of Blood and.... the less said there the better.

He would never be fooled again.

* * *

“ _Waaaai!” Akir-_ Arashi _sheered as_ Stormlight _flipped over their last boar and skewered it from behind._

_The two of them had been messing around on the boar planes for the last hour or so after exploring everything in the beginner plains. Stormlight had who knew how many wolf-pelts in his inventory along with a pile of 'pork cutlet's, which was an ingredient item earned from the boars._

_The boar burst into crystalline light and vanished, the taller of the two immediately reaching out for a high-five that Stormlight was happy, if a little embarrassed even now after so many of them, to return. It was funny, Arashi made his character with the idea of being as_ cool _as possible, but his personality was just too happy and enthusiastic to do it properly,_ Stormlight _acted 'cool'er than he did, which was a source of much laughter as the taller of the two tried to teach him several dramatic poses and catch phrases. He never did them right, and Arashi fell over laughing at his attempts so many times he almost got trampled by a boar once he was so busy laughing._

 _Stormlight chuckled and looked around himself, it had been_ amazing _. Sword Art Online was incredible. He stared at the horizon painted so many gorgeous colours as the most incredible sunset he'd ever seen lit up the sky as the fake sun slowly sank beneath the horizon._

“ _What time is it?” he asked, looking down at Arashi as he flopped onto the grass._

“ _Ah! Dinner! Kaachan!” he exclaimed pulling his menu up to check the time, “Ten minutes. We should logout,” he said with a nod as he got to his feet, gesturing at Stormlight to come closer. “Open your menu and go into system,” he explained, crowding close as Stormlight did so. Earlier they had gone through the menu and Arashi had pointed out what each tab was and all the functions inside. “Logout is.... eh....” he paused, finger hovering on a suspiciously blank spot._

“ _Not there,” Stormlight noted._

_Arashi muttered something under his breath as he turned to his own menu and quickly opened his system only to find his logout was missing too._

“ _It's not a problem, is it?” Stormlight said dismissively with a shrug, “Your mum can just pull our helmets off when we're late. If we explain, she'll understand, right?” he asked. Megumi-san was so nice, she definitely seemed like the type of parent who would believe her child even if she didn't believe Harry._

_He sighed and nodded, “Yes. But Jiisama is eating dinner today,” he admitted with a pout. Stormlight had seen how much Arashi loved his grandfather and how much the man doted on both him and Ryuji, he knew that Arashi didn't want to do anything that would disappoint his grandfather, even show up to dinner later than what they had agreed on with his mother._

_He patted his friend's shoulder as the huge bell in Starting City started to chime._

_He felt a chill._

“ _What...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNN!!!
> 
> For those familiar with SAO, yes, Harry has access to the ALFheim magic. ALO is run off the same CARDINAL system that SAO is on, hence why they were able to transfer the 300 after SAO was completed, however, it also means that all ALO skills are on the system. CARDINAL was developed (according to the LN) to create new Skills for SAO, so if someone showed aptitude for the magical arts, I don't see why CARDINAL wouldn't give them it as a Unique Skill. Also Harry has magic anyway, his brainwaves would be different from other people's so why not?


End file.
